Infamy
by Resistant Raisin
Summary: This had to be the reason. Had to be the reason why Germany's powerful military and empire crumbled in the Great War. Had to be the reason why his people were suffering and dying on a regular basis. Had to be the reason why he was a failure and could not even provide for his people. Germany could believe anything. WWII. Historical.


**-Author's Note-**

 **Thank you D.C. Sally for being my beta. Any mistakes from now on will be on my part.**

 **Any * can be read at the end, if the reader doesn't want to interrupt the story.**

-1918-

The raw, burning itch in Germany's hand would not cease. It _hadn't_ for months.

Even as humiliation burned his cheeks, as he was forced to sign away his colonies, his money, his army, he couldn't help but remain transfixed on the damned itch.

-1921-

Since the end of the Great War, the itch made its way up his arm as years passed. It would flare up on and off. But, nonetheless, he was _still_ preoccupied with it even as he struggled to scrape up something for his people besides depression, inflation, and death.

-1923-

Germany had heard of the Nazi party before Hitler rose to power. They were like any other extremist group during that time: troublesome, confusing, vengeful. There were so many groups and parties that after a certain point they began to blend together. They all wanted the same thing: revenge for the crippling reparations condemned upon them after the Great War- a bigger, better, happier Germany, one that could provide for its people and bring it back to the powerhouse it used to be.

When the Nazi Party began to gain a surprisingly high amount of followers- or lack of rivals from a more realistic perspective- Germany began to pay attention. He knew they wanted power, to be as powerful as the fascist party in Italy. So, he was not surprised when Hitler and his followers attempted a demonstration similar to Mussolini's march in Rome. It was unsuccessful, of course, but it still intrigued him.

He was surprised that Hitler had such a passion and fiery in him. That he let his failed artistic past flow into the present and write a book from within prison walls.

-1933-

Germany knew that it was a mistake for President Hindenburg to appoint the corrupt Nazi as chancellor. Germany was sure the literal interpretation of "keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer" would backfire on the dying old man. Since its first appearance, Germany knew that the relentless itch that had been plaguing him was a representation of the rise of an upcoming leader, a fairly common occurrence with past rulers. However, he had only recently realized that this itch symbolized Hitler, mistaking it for an omen of some sorts about a second wave of depression. But when Hitler had been appointed chancellor, a jolt of pain spiked from the itch and he knew its true representation.

It was only a matter of time until the itch made its way to his heart, officially signifying that the Hitler had achieved his destiny to power.

Their destiny...

 _Germany's_ destiny. _Hitler's_ destiny.

Perhaps that was why Germany was easily swayed by the beliefs of the Nazi Party and the German masses. It wasn't unheard of that personifications defied the common belief and morals their people held, but this time there was no hint of resistance from the German personification. He was blinded by his longing for the ability to finally provide hope and food and a happy life to his dying people and land. He excused the immorality with destiny.

Who cared that one culture or race would die if it meant the mass would live? Who cared that the Jews died if it meant the majority would live? Antisemitism was rooted into Europe, dating as far back as the Roman Empire. It had always been an escape for European nations looking for an easy way out, so why couldn't the same strategy be used today?

This had to be the reason. _Had_ to be the reason why Germany's powerful military and empire crumbled in the Great War. _Had_ to be the reason why his people were suffering and dying on a regular basis. _Had_ to be the reason why he was a failure and could not even provide for his people.

Germany could believe anything. He would believe that he was destined to rise from the ashes with the bodies of the Jews and tainted under his feet.

-1934-

Germany had always felt a bit self-conscious about his appearance.

As a child, he felt that it isolated him from his elder brother, Prussia. Not only did it remind him of the lack of unity in his people, but it reminded him of the stark differences between the two brothers. When told that they were brothers, nobody- nations or humans- would conceive such a notion. Initially, they would argue that someone as handsome and polite as him could never be related to such a freakish and gaudy being like Prussia. Of course, Prussia would become angered by the insults and resort to violence to "knock some sense into them." But after Germany's pleads for Prussia to stop the senseless brutality, his brother would eventually stop. Prussia's bloodied victim would then hastily agree with the fact that they were brothers, whether it was because they feared another beating or because they understood that the surge of anger and loyalty could only come from the strong bond between the two siblings.

In the present, Germany's made him nervous to walk the streets. His tall, muscular build drew many stares from people, surprised to see such a healthy German present while they were devastated by the merciless cruelty of the world.

Out of the few leaders that made him feel accepting of his and Prussia's appearance, Adolf Hitler was one of them.

When they were finally introduced to their newest leader and dictator, Germany could have sworn Hitler almost cried. He didn't gush about his affections per say, but he certainly had short monologue about how he could not picture a better representation of Germany and Prussia. He deemed that Germany's perfect fulfillment of the Aryan ideal was not a coincidence and that Prussia's ruby red eyes represented the power of the Prussians, his albino complexion a representation of ghostly presence of the Prussian spirit in the German nation.

Germany was flattered, but uncomfortable with the questionable praise. He was prepared to let the incident slide, and, if only to appease their leader, not explain that they looked this way throughout their entire existence. However, Prussia's lack of sensible tack compelled him to burst into a fit of laughter. Through wheezes and dramatic tears, he stuttered out that Hitler's "pansy, melodramatic interpretations were unrealistic." He was pale as fuck even when his nation existed and Hitler shouldn't read into either of their appearances.

This, of course, received a smack up the head from Germany. As his brother was sprawled on the floor, he "apologized for Prussia's rude and senseless behavior."

-1940-

Germany absent-mindedly rubbed his chest beneath his stiff uniform, a dim irritation over his heart. He had grown used to this mindless mistake and immediately stopped agitating the itch once he realized he would only make it worse. Sliding a hand through his hair in a swift motion, he brushed off the distraction and returned to his paperwork.

It was a military order arguing whether or not the German military should invest in another attack on London. Hitler's army had been launching Operation Sea Lion for little over a month now, yet the damn Brits refused to give underneath the power of their kept calm and carried on as their propaganda promoted.

The German nation had already annexed Western Europe in a matter of months, yet this little mouse defied its doomed fate. Many of the German people blamed this preservation on the Jews once again, but Germany himself blamed it on the infuriating stubbornness of that bitter old bastard- the personification of Britain.

Feeling a deep scowl mar his chiseled features, Germany scratched his signature across the parchment.

When England finally fell to Hitler's army, the march could finally resume and gain the _Lebensraum_ that their dictator promised.

-1941-

Germany knew that Japan was not a nation to be messed with. The memory of German troops witnessing that horrific Japanese invasion of China still burned in his mind, despite it happening just over three years ago. Over 260,000 Chinese noncombatants were terrorized and massacred within weeks of their arrival: raping every pretty woman or girl that was still alive, beheading civilians trying to escape, torturing men by nailing their tongues to the wall, bayonets practice on prisoners, throwing babies into pots of boiling water. The atrocities were endless and treated as a game. Hell, even some of the _German troops_ sheltered fleeing Chinese from the barbaric hands of the Japanese.

If this wasn't proof of what monster hide under that emotionless mask, then Hitler's mother was a Jew. However, Germany didn't let this chilling knowledge hinder him.

Germany shook with rage, pacing the small meeting room with a hand in his hair. It had been a good thing that Japan was sitting across the room, otherwise he surely would have put a fist in that stoic face.

He couldn't believe it. The Axis had one job: keep America neutral. The damned nation had been their downfall in the last war, and it sure as hell wouldn't be their downfall in this one.

"Out of all the things you could have done," Germany growled, shooting a fiery glare at the other nation. "You had the entire Pacific and you attacked the one damn place you knew would cause trouble."

Japan was unfazed by Germany's livid looks and dangerously short temper. He merely stared at him over the table with an ever present impassive look, yet Germany got the feeling that underneath his mask he was scowling and rolling his eyes. "You and I both know that we didn't expect America to enter the war even after the attack. We thought them cowards."

"Cowards, corrupt, tainted, it doesn't matter what we think anymore, Japan." Germany stopped his pacing and dropped himself in a chair at the table, mentally calculating new war strategies that incorporated the American factor. " _Shit!_ Did you even accomplish your mission? Is that godforsaken greed of yours finally satisfied-"

"Don't talk to me about greed," Japan interjected, the corner of his mouth twitching downward, "when _you_ have Europe in the palm of your hand-"

"Because the German military is inexorable and Europe is suffering a depression, not because we use civilians as toys-"

" _Inexorable_?" Another twitch. "How did Operation Sea Lion end? How successful is Operation Barbarossa coming along? Can your brother attest to how cruel the Russian winters truly are?"

Germany rose his hand, signaling Japan to stop. Turning his head away and sucking in a deep breath, Germany attempted to cool his nerves before asking once again in a calmer manner. "Did you accomplish your mission? Is the Pacific yours?" A tense silence sat in the air when Japan did not respond, only flickering his eyes away from Germany's demanding stare. "You didn't even do that much?! Your one goal was to at least destroy their aircraft carriers. What use are you other than another name on the alliance-"

"I will distract America from the war raging in Europe," Japan interrupted, raising and hardening his voice to be heard over Germany's angry ramblings. "America is just as greedy as us and won't relinquish the Pacific."

Germany snorted and muttered under his breath, "Or maybe his hero complex compels him to rescue the Pacific from your immoral grasp."

Both nations stared each other down impassive looks, poorly concealing their agitation and anger.

Breaking the stare first, Germany silently stood and gathered his things. Japan averted his eyes to the window overlooking the streets of Berlin, red with the Nazi flag.

Briefcase in hand, Germany started towards the door but froze with his hand on the handle.

Neither looked at each other.

"Now that America has entered the war, he must decide between saving his European family or the territory and people being mutilated under your control. Either path he chooses, do your best to drain as many American resources as you can in your battle."

"I will do my best; we would rather die than surrender."

"Good."

 _Click_. He opened the door.

"Germany, before you leave, I must speak my mind. I refuse to listen to you dishonor my name, listen to you preach about the immorality of murder and mutilation Tell me, how many have perished in the genocide you have unleashed thus far?"

"I do not know what you speak of."

 _Bang_.

-1942-

"Germany! Germany! Is Prussia going to join us in today's meeting?" Italy chirped, trotting down the hallway between Germany and Japan. "It's been awhile since I've seen him, hm?"

"Yes, it has," Germany answered exasperatedly, already tired of listening to the cheery Italian's rambling for the last twenty minutes. Quickly scratching his chest, Germany knew that the rest of the day's events were going to be equally as exhausting.

"So, where is he?"

"The Soviet Union."

"Yikes! I hear that it is tough over there. Cold too!"

"Unfortunately."

"Well at least you have those snazzy German coats! They may not be that warm, but they're super stylish, am I right? If the war was a fashion show, you'd surely win!"

"..."

"Hey! Why do we always have a meeting at your place, Germany?"

"Would your rather have one in France?" Germany joked. A chuckle ran through the Axis Powers, light as wind chimes and rare as Halley's Comet.

"Heh, France would be very angry about that. Pelt us to death with his smelly snails if he weren't- he weren't..." Italy trailed off, his smile wavering and skips slowing as he was lost in his thought. However, the falter was only lasted for a moment before he gave his head a light shake and revived his amicable smile. "Why don't we have meetings in Japan?"

"Because it is dangerous in Japan," Germany replied hesitantly, not wanting to upset either ally. "They have just been bombed by the Americans, which means that they are vulnerable."

"Well, why not at my place then? I could take you guys on a fun tour of Rome! Romano can come too! It'll be a nice break from all this nasty fighting."

"I'm afraid your brother is disagreeable and there are American and British troops present in North Africa. It is neither safe nor is it an appropriate time."

The trio stopped at a door at the end of the hallway, opening it to reveal a spacious meeting room already occupied by their respective leaders and translators.

Ushered in by Germany, Italy continued his good-natured argument as he sat in his seat next to Mussolini. "Come on, Africa's an _entire_ sea away. Plus! We're totally kicking their butts over there, so we don't need to fear those silly soldiers." Much to Italy's dismay, everyone in the room except him exchanged dubious glances. Italy's joyous features fell, devastation and fear in its wake. "B-But I made our men pasta! A-and Germany has cooler tanks! What do those Allies have?!"

"The better question is what don't they have," Japan answered coldly.

-1943-

 _Dear Germany,_

 _I know by now you must have already heard the news, but because we are friends I wanted to tell you personally and apologize- or rather were friends, depending on how much you hate me now. Truly, it pains me to tell you that Italy has surrendered and joined the Allied. I desperately prayed that the war would not reach my homeland for the sake of my people and of our alliance, but it seems God had different plans, no?_

 _When America and Britain somehow conquered North Africa and targeted Sicily, I remained optimistic and strong to the best of my abilities, just like you told me. But, with their steady advancement and Romano's pessimism, I must be honest and admit that I quickly became frightened and discouraged._

 _I had little hope in our future as allies, but kept a facade of positivity for as long as I could. Maybe if I could convince others that everything was going to be okay I could believe it myself. However, Romano recognized my false assurance and became even more angered by my refusal to surrender. I was finally forced to confront my despair when Romano threatened to kiss Britain and America's feet if that meant our people would stop living in fear of being attack. As if I wasn't cowardly enough submitting to the enemy, I stayed home while my brother left to settle an agreement with the Allies._

 _I can not begin to express the shame and sorrow that I feel for abandoning you, both personally and politically. Even now I don't think that what I wrote you justifies my true feelings. But time is pressed and all I can do is hope that you understand my feelings and forgive my cowardliness and betrayal. Maybe we can even become best friends again one day. Until that time, I will pray for you and your people._

 _Yours Truly,_

 _Italy Veneziano_

-1944-

It came to no surprise that the Allies would try to open up another front in France. In his scribbled letters, Prussia informed Germany that even though the Eastern Front was a fail, the Soviets were not quite strong enough to push too far back against the "awesome" German army.

From his office, Germany signed the paper, approving the fortification of Calais, France. Not that it really needed it thanks to the Atlantic Wall, but one could never be too cautious; the German military knew first hand that the British were stubborn bastards and Americans were just as headstrong.

Just across the English channel, the allies were building up a military according to German pilots flying over the area. Tanks, troops, airplanes, everything needed to launch an attack.

Germany would be joking, of course, to say that he felt sorry for the pitiful attempt to open another front and relieve the Soviets.*

-1945-

-April-

When Hitler descended into a hidden bunker with his girlfriend and dog, Germany knew it was officially over. Their last failed counterattack in the Ardennes Forest was a sure sign of the end. Now, it was officially here.

Hitler had a reason to hide- he didn't want to be in the filthy hands of the Soviets. Germany had a reason to stay out in the open.

He and Prussia had just been reunited a few days ago but, under the obviously dire circumstances, it hadn't been much of a reunion. Just a pat on the back before they went back to business, hastily making plans to somehow separate the American and British allies. So, they used this time to reunite properly.

They languished in Germany's office with a bottle of hard liquor between them, the door locked. They talked and joked with the sound of gunshots and screaming in the distance.

They didn't talk about the war, they refused to. But they talked just about everything else.

How they missed each other's strange antics, what their favorite constellations were, which animal would make a better pet, how much they loved and hated each other.

Even as the slamming of doors and yelling grew louder, they only acknowledged them for a second before returning to their conversation, giggling like school girls peeking into the boys' bathroom.

Even as soldiers broke down the door, they burst into laughter with rosy cheeks and bittersweet breaths, slapping their knees and snorting. And once they started laughing, they couldn't stop. It felt like centuries since either nation felt something other than the numbing sense concoction of dread and depression.

They laughed even as one of the soldiers removed their helmet to reveal the personification of Russia, livid and ready to kill. Even as he swung a fist at Germany despite his unit trying to hold him back. Even as blood streamed from Germany's split lip and fat tears streamed down Prussia flushed face. Even as Russia screamed like a banshee about how they were going to hell. Even as they were thrown, pinned to the ground, and cuffed.

Even as Germany felt the dull itch over his heart flare up and then disappear completely.

They laughed.

-1945-

-05 May-

Germany sat in solemn silence as he jolted in the back of an American military vehicle, ducking his head to avoid hitting his head on the canvas top. To his left sat a line of confused, frightful German civilians, and to his right sat Prussia, his ever present smirk replaced with an unsettling frown. Across from him sat America, glowering at them with a twitching hand on his gun.

When the rattling truck came to an halt, America kicked open the back and other Americans could be heard doing the same with their own vehicles. In broken German, America ordered everyone to get out, gesticulating to get his point across more clearly. Following his command, they all got out of the vehicle, men helping the women step off onto the dirt road.

Upon exiting, they all looked around to try and gather their bearings, but a thick line of trees on either side of the road hindered their view of any significant landmarks.

"Today you will be helping us," America announced in slow German, his poor accent inducing a smirk from Prussia. "We will be moving the- the- the..." He frowned deeply, as if annoyed. He stepped up to Prussia and spoke in English this time. "Listen, I don't really know German that well-"

Prussia snorted and snapped in heavily accented English, "No shit."

"-so I need you to translate for me."

"Whatever you want, _yankee_."

America clenched his jaw, but controlled the burst of anger that obviously ran through him. "Tell them they're going to help us clean up the mess they made."

With a conceited sigh, he cupped his hands around his mouth and announced, " _Der Amerikaner sagt, dass er ein Arschloch ist._ "

In one quick motion, America grabbed Prussia's shoulder and smashed a fist in his face. Civilians' muffled laughter was cut off by their screams and Germany wearily took a step back.

As Prussia was sprawled on the ground with a hand cradling his jaw, America jabbed a finger at him. "I may not speak the language, but I know it well enough to know an insult, _kraut_."

"Hey!" From around the corner another American military man appeared. "What's going on, Jones?"

America visible straightened, but didn't relinquish the aura of authority surrounding him. "Nothing, Clark," he gestured to Prussia, who was picking himself up. "He's just causing some trouble. Nothing I can't handle."

The American scanned the crowd of Germans and cast him a dubious glance, but nodded. "The rest of us are waiting for you, so pick it up a bit."

"Will do, sir."

With the man gone, America turned his attention to Germany. "Translate for me and don't be an ass like your brother." Germany ignored Prussia's irritated tck and silently nodded. "Good. Tell them that they're going to help clean up their mess."

Germany turned around to face the German civilians behind him. " _Wir werden, biem Aufzuräumen helfen!_ "

"You are going to help bury-

" _Wir helfen ihnen dabei_ -"

"-the bodies of victims of the death camp."

" _die Leichen zu_ \- _Moment_ \- You say bodies?!"**

Germany snapped his head to America's steel glare. "You heard me."

"I-I heard what you said, but why are you making civilians do this? What do they have to do with-"

Germany couldn't help but stumble back a few steps when America jabbed a finger in his chest.

" _Shut up!_ There is a camp _just_ down the road filled with _hundreds_ of naked corpses. All of them prisoners here. Some were found in a mass grave dug by machinery, some were found in barracks fit only for the filthiest of beings, some were still clawing at the walls found in shower houses, some were found charred in a crematorium!

"We talked to some survivors of this hell hole, you know? They say they were ripped away from their loved ones, starved, beaten, murdered. All of this was happening for _years_ and you can't tell me that just a mile away this town didn't have a single damn clue of what was going on."

-1945-

-05 May-

Germany consoled Prussia as he threw up. He rubbed his back and nodded at other Germans who passed with sympathetic glances.

Behind them was the source of Prussia's illness.

For the last few hours, the Germans had been moving bodies under the supervision of American and Russian military personnel. A pair would shuffle around a vile, fly infested corpse, unsure of how to perform such a gruesome task, averting their eyes from the pale, jagged body. Touching as little of the body as they could, with trembling hands they would tentatively pick up them by the decaying flesh and brittle bone that were once wrists and ankles. They would travel as far as the entire span of the camp to drop them into the mass grave, being as careful with them as if it were the burial of their loved one.

There came a certain point when they had to stack corpse on top of one another. This of course meant that they would pick their way through the minefield of bodies, stomachs lurching and mind swimming when sharp cracks and wet squishes sounded beneath their feet.

While German civilians performed this task slowly and frightfully, Germany and Prussia were able to transport the corpses quickly. Hundreds of years of existence had trained them well enough trained to bury their emotions and detract their personal connections in order to perform any duty as quickly and as efficiently as possible, no matter how horrific.

Or so they had thought.

When he finished heaving up brown sludge, Prussia dropped to the soft dirt on his butt, tremors overtaking his body.

"You know," he croaked with watery eyes as Germany sat beside him and wrapped an arm around him the same way Prussia used to to do Germany when he was young and frightened. "When I was in the Soviet Union, we'd round up Jews to be killed. It took too much time and money to ship them back to camps, so we just herded them into the forests like pigs for slaughter. They'd dig their own grave, children, women, elderly. And when they were done, we'd have them lay face down on the hole they just dug in a perfect line. Then we'd line up behind them, one Nazi for every Jew, and shoot them in the back of the head. The next group would have to lay down on the dead, atop the blood and the brains of their family and friends, and we'd repeat the process. Herd, dig, shoot, shoot. Herd, dig, shoot, shoot.

"But, after a while, I couldn't do it anymore. Neither could a lot of the other men. We told our commander one day and he seemed understanding, looked at us with a sad grimace. He sent us to guard duty and brought in some other poor bastards to take our place...

"I don't think I can do it any more, Brother. Any of this. They say that people- nations- crave war and violence. But I don't think I want it anymore. I've been doing this for too long, and, _hell_ , it's gotten worse in just this last century. I.. I want it to stop. God, Germany, I want it to stop."

-1945-

-07 May-

"Stop! Let me go!" Germany fought against America's and England's powerful grip, a nation on each arm.

From across the room, Prussia was doing the same with Russia. There had been a second, human guard on him, but he was easily thrown aside and knocked unconscious. "Let go of me, you damn commie! I'm not going to let separate the awesome Prussia from his awesome brother-"

In a quick, powerful motion, Russia wrapped an arm around Prussia's neck and swiped his legs from beneath him, dropping like a stone. A split second later, Russia straddled him and landed an intense, bone-crunching blow to his temple, effectively rendering him unconscious.

Seeing his fallen brother being slowly dragged away by Russia sent a surge of anger and power through Germany.

"I refuse to let this happen!" He roared, fruitlessly wrestling against his bounds so hard that he could hear the crack of his bones under America's superhuman grasp.

"It's not really your choice now is it?" England groaned as he strained to hold Germany back, silently wishing to save everyone the hassle and bloody shoot the German and wait for him to regenerate in a prison cell.

"Please, don't take my brother away-"

"Would you rather be _66 billion dollars_ in debt for war reparations? Come now, be a man about this."

" _Go to hell!_ "

"Lad, I've already been there thanks to you." ***

 **-Historical Notes-**

 ***This not referring to D-Day, rather "Operation Fortitude," a fake invasion by the Allies at Calais, France. Because D-Day was a surprise invasion, I wanted an event that could substitute this.**

 **** Thank you Merpa for correcting my German. German translations are (in order of appearance): "This American says he's an asshole." "We are going to help clean up." "We are going to help bury" "the bodies- wait"**

 ***** Fun fact, Germany just payed off WWI reparations in 2010.**

 **Please correct me if any historical information in the fic is incorrect. I would be happy to discuss it and make the proper corrections.**

 **-Author's Notes-**

 **There is honestly so much more historical aspects I wanted to write in this story, but I wanted to keep things in range where most events are recognizable and knowledgeable of to avoid a long history lesson at the end. However, if you do have any questions about certain events or pieces of information, please feel free to ask me in a pm or review.**

 **I'm honestly not quite 100% about my characterization for the Axis Powers as this is my first time writing about them and such a sensitive topic. So, if any characterization is off please feel free to tell me.**

 **Thanks for reading and reviews/alerts are appreciated.**


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